Left Alone In The Dying City
by Axel Danger Flynn VIII
Summary: ONESHOT: Angsty DouWata, AU. May contain spoilers for most recent chapters. Rated for slight lemon. Maybe be a little difficult to understand, message me if you don't understand the author's note.


_i walk a lonely road_

"Where are you…taking me?" The only thing he could feel was the gentle touch of another's hand on his, the hard street becoming rougher as he walked and walked…the dark feeling of being closed in drawing closer and closer. He squinted his eyes against the dark cloth across his visual sensors. His eyes teared up, in fear mostly. He wasn't afraid of what he would do to him, he was just afraid of what might happen if he continued to stay this way.

Staying with him.  
Staying as a lover.  
Staying as a friend.  
Just.....  
……staying.

The woman had warned him.

Suddenly, the other movement stopped. He halted his advance, gripping tightly to the hand that held his, even as the other struggled to find something on the surface of the dark, enclosed, bumpy, street. He heard a noise of released pressure, and a loud, long creak in the dead silence. It even shattered the silence their breath shared, breathing, hearts beating, as one. There still remained no answer.

_i walk this empty street_

"You have to let go of my hand."  
"I can't."  
"You won't be able to come with me unless you let go and let me untie the blindfold."  
"Fine."

_sometimes i wish someone out there will find me_

The black silk slipped off his eyes, the one in front of him still there. As if he wanted to believe that his love would leave him alone in the dying city. Sometimes he had a fleeting thought that this love was fake. Just a lie. He wanted to keep believing that nothing he wanted he ever got. That happiness was an outright sin. That all those who claimed to love him left him in the end.

"I love you."  
He dismissed it.

The other lowered himself into the opening in the earth, reaching up and taking hold of his waist to pull him down into the secret place. It was dark and even more stifling than the dark, rough road itself. A match ignited, light strewn through the small room as a candle and then two and then three were lit. The trapdoor was closed and he sat on the worn red velvet couch. It reminded him of that woman.

"This was my grandfather's."  
"Yes…" He trailed off, and before he knew it he was being pressed against the old dusty pillows and his lips were captured ever so gently. He could hear those words against them again,  
"I love you."

_on the borderline of the edge_

He loved the other as well.

_my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating_

He cried out- not modest or shy or anything of the sort. He felt that fiery feeling in his stomach, following the other's hands wherever they traced, whether it be his back or his face or his chest or his legs. He felt those light kisses trace his neck, his name echoing in his ear over and over again. He opened his eyes and they were clouded over, yet only seeing his love above him. That handsome boy that he'd fallen for.

That handsome boy that she had warned him about.  
That she helped to make the flames grow.  
And she did this unintentionally.  
She hadn't meant to.  
She didn't want this.  
But she was gone, and her guidance meant nothing.  
Because he loved the other as well.

_i walk alone_

Something rose from up in his lungs.  
Something dangerous.  
Something _deadly_.

"I love you too," he whispered, defeated, deflated, in to his love's ear, still having the energy to run his hand through his hair and kiss his temple. He smiled.  
Then, he coughed. Not just a cough. He choked.

Crimson splattered on the floor. It resided on his lips, on the couch.  
The other held his trembling body, whispering things like "It will be okay" and "I love you, I love you" in to his ear. Lips brushed across his eye, taking away his tears. But he kept on coughing.

Now the other sat up restlessly, holding tightly to him. Trying to calm him. The blood kept coming up, into his own hand to prevent getting it on his love. He couldn't be stained by his blood anymore. Not anymore. Not ever. Not again.

_i don't know where it goes_

"Please," the other said helplessly, their exposed bodies still pressed together, "You can't."  
"I am," He said quietly otherwise as the coughing stopped and his hand fell to his side. He was kissed gently again, the blood on his love's lips now.  
He cried. He didn't want that. Not on his love.

_until then i walk alone_

"I love you," He said it outright.  
"You can't," the other repeated.  
"I love you, Shizu…ka…" His eyes reflected no color- no light. Like opaque glass. Lifeless.

The candles snuffed out, the trapdoor shut. A flower dead and wilted lay on crimson tattooed skin.

_Left alone in this dying city._

**(Today I heard that song three times going to Tallahassee** **and back. I guess it was popular on the radio today. Me and **Tahru **were roleplaying earlier and this secret place came across my mind again. We'd used it in an old DouWata roleplay. In the roleplay, Watanuki became ill because Doumeki's spirit was repelling that of Watanuki's spirit-tainted one. In the end, Watanuki did not die. But in this story, I felt it was necessary for it to end that way. In this story, it's also up-to-date, so we're assuming Yuuko isn't there to advise him to stay away from Doumeki. )**


End file.
